


Why Don't You And I Combine

by BelovedCreation



Series: two is twice as nice as one [2]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - The Parent Trap Fusion, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-07
Updated: 2015-03-06
Packaged: 2018-03-06 14:44:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3138107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BelovedCreation/pseuds/BelovedCreation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Additional pieces to "Let's Get Together (yeah yeah yeah)" - A Captain Swan "Parent Trap" AU. You should read that story first.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. why don't we make a scene?

It isn't the first time Emma Swan has ever punched an annoying dick.

She grew up in the foster care system, where the ability to defend yourself kept you from being beat up after the parents went to sleep. And once she had developed breasts and learned how to curl her hair she was constantly dealing with catcalls and pushy men in bars who thought that pinching her ass was the same as a heartfelt compliment.

So when Grabby McSqueezy finally gets fed up with Emma's efforts to ignore him in the hole-in-a-wall bar five blocks from her final class of the day at Boston University, Emma has absolutely no reservations about socking him in the jaw and relishing the way his fat head hits the ground.

Emma shakes her hand and winces at the dull throb. She turns to the bar to order another drink (maybe one that will lessen the pain) when an ice pack appears in her vision.

"Here you go," says a voice, but Emma takes the pack and rests it on her knuckles, actually moaning a bit when the coolness hits her, before she spares a look at her nurse.

_Oh._

_Hello nurse._

His eyes are a cool, ice blue that send shivers down her spine totally unrelated to the pack on her hand. He smiles (no, it is a smirk, definitely a smirk) and her heart fuckin' skips a beat.

No one should be allowed to look this good.

"What an arsehole, huh?" the man adds, and Emma realizes two things at the same time: this dreamboat is both A) British, and B) the bartender. She sinks into a bar stool and shrugs her shoulders.

"Not the first ass I've punched," she replies weakly. "Sure it won't be the last."

The bartender throws his head back and laughs, adam's apple bobbing. "Then what can I get for you, Rocky?" he asks gleefully.

She orders a beer and, after handing it to her, the bartender disappears for ten minutes, helping other customers. It confuses Emma a bit, as she is used to men who look like him (all men, really) to be hitting on her constantly. But Ole Blue Eyes focuses on his job, and it is only the looks the sends her way, piercing and playful, that make her think he hasn't forgotten her.

"So who  _was_  the first ass you punched?"

He's reappeared, her beer half gone, scratching at the dark scruff that covers his jaw and that smirk back in place.

"Billy Tucker," she shoots back. "He tried to steal my foster sister's lunch money."

Emma lifts the ice pack infinitesimally, peeking to see if it is going to bruise. The bartender's large, elegant fingers press the pack back down, covering both of her hands and making her gasp (in surprise, not that a spark went down her arm,  _okay?_ )

"Leave it on for five more minutes. We don't want it to swell. Then you'll have a terrible time taking notes in class."

She raises an eyebrow. "How do you know I'm a student?"

"Everyone in here's a student. Damn,  _I'm_  a student." His brow furrows comically. "But the question is what you study." He considers her for a long moment and she can almost feel him reading her soul, knowing her every secret. She leans away a tiny bit.

"English literature," he smiles. "I bet you're a fantastic reader."

"Errr," she honks, impersonating a buzzer on a gameshow. "So totally wrong. I hate reading."

"Mathematics?"

"Not even close."

"Pre-law."

"Hmmmmm," she hums and takes a gulp of beer. "Closer."

The bartender puts his weight on his elbows, getting way too close (and maybe not close enough). "Criminology."

"Bingo."

He smiles in a rather smug sort of way.

"Took you long enough," she scoffs, and his smile drops.

"Why don't you give it a shot?" he challenges, looking rather adorably disgruntled.

"History."

His blue, blue eyes widen and he coughs a little. "How on earth-"

She nods at the stack of books piled up behind him. The thick tomes are on Ancient History, Asian History, and US History 1945-1980. He turns to look and when he faces her again, his ears are tipped in scarlet.

"You must be aces at all your courses," he mutters sullenly.

Emma beams. "I am."

She stays there until well past closing, only having one more beer (which she insists on paying for herself after a long argument where he stands his ground on her first one free) and chatting with him about everything.

His name is Killian Jones and he's from England (duh) studying history (double duh) at Boston University with an older brother and a fascination with boats. He's funny and smart and flirty, but not in a sleazy way. His eyes stay above her neck and he doesn't push (doesn't even bring up the fact she let something slip about a foster sister) and when he offers to escort her home and she refuses, he offers a gallant bow and chirps, "I suppose I shouldn't have to worry about you, love, not with that right hook of yours."

Before they part ways, standing at the back door to the bar, Emma impulsively grabs his hand, digs a sharpie from her bag, and scrawls her phone number across his creased palm. She caps the marker with a flourish and looks up at him with a smile. His own eyes have grown soft.

_Shit._

_Is he gonna make a move?_

She doesn't have time to run or respond before he's captured her bruised, tender hand within his own hands and softly brings it to his mouth. He brushes his lips across her purple knuckles and she feels sparks shoot up her arm.

"Good evening, Miss Swan," he whispers. And then he walks away without looking back.

He calls her the next afternoon and asks her to have dinner with him.

She says yes.


	2. twice the fun

Liam had been fascinated by their tiny fingers when they had been born. Impossibly small, he had been struck by an urge to capture the shaking little fists and pop them into his mouth. When he had given in, gumming the exquisite fingers with playful growls as they babbled, only his brother's chuckle had made him realize how ridiculous he was behaving.

"Hardly proper behavior for a captain, brother," Killian had deadpanned with a raised eyebrow. But no amount of sarcasm could wipe away the glow of new fatherhood and the redness around his eyes from lack of sleep.

"I am not with the navy any longer, little brother," he had responded, straightening up from the crib and raising an eyebrow of his own. "I am Uncle Liam and this behavior is highly proper. If you will excuse me, I have four hands to continue nibbling."

\--

Sitting on the kitchen floor of his flat on the eve of the new millennium, one set of hands is somewhere in America while the other is dripping with finger paint while a cheery smile looks up at him framed by angelic cheeks.

"Wiam!" Megan squeals, smacking her hands on the paint-splattered paper. "Wiam!"

"Good job, Maggie," he encourages. "You are such a good little painter."

"Are you sure you will be okay?" comes Killian's anxious voice from the bedroom before he appears, eyes now ringed with melancholy. "Because I can stay home-"

"Not a chance, little brother," he shoots back. "You are going on this date tonight."

"But it is the millennium," Killian continues, scratching behind his ear, "perhaps I should spend it with my daughter."

"Killian." Liam rises and gives his brother a look straight in the eyes. "Your daughter will not remember this evening. This is not my first night alone with her and if the lovely Sarah has her way, it will hardly be the last."

He swallows at that, looking supremely nervous at the thought of spending the night with another woman, and Liam has to fight back the urge to call Emma up and berate her for throwing his brother out and breaking his heart so thoroughly. The urge to protect Killian has been running through his veins since his little brother was the one in finger paints and Liam doesn't intend to ever stop.

"Go," Liam barks, scooping Killian's keys and wallet off of the counter and handing them to him forcefully. "And if I see you before all the computers crash then I will kick the two of you out of my flat and you will finally be forced to find a new home."

Killian's shoulders are sloped in defeat as he brushes a kiss to his daughter's soft blonde head and makes his way out the door. A final, conflicted look, and he leaves for his first date since he fell head over heels for his ex wife.

"How about you and I watch a movie, Maggie," Liam coos, picking Megan up to take her to the sink and wash off her tiny, stained fingers.

She grins, several dimples winking out at him, and Liam starts to wonder how much trouble she would have gotten in with her sister by her side. Certainly more than Uncle Liam could have handled for a night as mad as Y2K.

They fall asleep on the couch,  _Peter Pan_  blaring from the telly.

When Killian sneaks into the flat the next morning, smelling heavily like perfume and liquor, his eyes are slightly less dim and Liam knows his brother will get through this. Eventually.


End file.
